Book 2 Chapter 62

The rooms assigned to them were built into the very top of the Wall, just beneath the broad roadway that ran along its crest. They were opulent in a restrained fashion. Everything was exquisitely crafted, yet deliberately muted, with no gold, jade, or luxurious silks competing for attention. Instead, every piece spoke of permanence. Furniture carved from ten-thousand-year-old Ironwood rested with the quiet weight of mountains, its dark grain polished until it caught the glow of the lamps in subdued streaks. The cloth was woven from Crimson Sea Silk – coarse beneath the fingers, yet capable of enduring even Foundation Establishment-level flames – and qi lights were recessed deep within the stone itself, their gentle radiance softened by globes of alchemically crafted glass. Nothing glittered because nothing needed to. The room seemed built with the expectation that it would still be standing centuries after everyone currently living had turned to dust.

The room Mo Jian received – one of several clustered together for the group – was not especially large. It contained a bed, a small alcove for meditation and cultivation, doors leading both outside and upward, and a narrow slit that served as a window. A formation projected the view beyond the Wall, and standing beneath it, all Mo Jian could see was the endless grassland stretching into the distance beneath the moonlight. Countless stalks swayed in slow, rolling waves, silvered by the pale light until the sea of grass seemed almost liquid, rising and falling with every passing breeze. Somewhere beyond his sight, the wind whispered through the plains with a lonely, unbroken rhythm.

A faint current of cool night air slipped through the formation, carrying with it the clean scent of wild grass and open earth. It mingled with the lingering warmth stored in the Wall's ancient stones, leaving the chamber pleasantly temperate despite the chill outside. Standing beneath the window, feeling the cool air brush across his face while warmth radiated from the walls behind him, Mo Jian found the contrast unexpectedly soothing.

Unfortunately, unable to fly at the moment, peering through the slit like a child too short to see over a windowsill was the best he could manage, unless he resorted to some creative application of qi.

Shaking his head, he crossed the room and sat on the bed.

The meeting had not gone as expected, but, all things considered, it was a minor setback. Remaining on the Wall had never been part of the plan, and once they were beyond this obstacle, General Lou's objections would cease to matter. True, a guide familiar with the Steppes would have been useful, but they were hardly helpless without one. Muxue's Truth Tolling Bell could serve as a substitute in some respects, and beyond that...

The Netherworld Scorpion, perched on his shoulder ever since the confrontation with General Lou, fluttered its newly grown wings and lifted into the air, like a firefly woven from mist and gentle moonlight. Controlling it had become increasingly difficult, not because it had developed a will of its own, but because those wings were astonishingly fast. Too fast, perhaps. A single thought sent it streaking across the room in a ribbon of pale radiance before even Mo Jian's perception could properly follow its movement. One moment it hovered beside him; the next it rested upon the opposite wall, its tiny claws finding purchase against the stone without making the slightest sound.

But that was not the most important thing.

"General Lou," he said aloud. Having already laid down a formation to isolate the room, he had no concern about being overheard. The scorpion reacted instantly. Its body pivoted with uncanny precision until it faced diagonally into the wall to his left. Had Mo Jian released it, it would have plunged straight through the stone like a wandering ghost, not stopping until it reached General Lou himself.

"Truly worthy of being the Celestial Compass," he murmured, unable to suppress the note of admiration in his voice. The South Pointing Chariot's xian had transformed the Netherworld Scorpion into something extraordinary. Mo Jian no longer needed to know where his targets were. Simply naming them was enough. The creature would unerringly find the direction in which that person lay. The enhancement elevated the scorpion's usefulness by leaps and bounds; the ability to locate anyone, anywhere, bordered on the divine.

And… it served another purpose too.

"The Twin Love Assassins," he said, and the scorpion circled around the air slowly, as if tasting it. However, it did not stop to point in any direction and Mo Jian frowned. Was it because he had said a title and not a name? Unfortunately, he did not know the names of the individuals comprising that pair; the court records of their arrest he had browsed through had not mentioned them. What a pity. So only names worked, and not titles.

Of course, that raised an obvious question. Were there any other limits?

"Chao Qinzi." Using the demonic cultivator as his next target was only natural. The man had been – or perhaps still was – a peak Core Formation cultivator, and despite considerable effort, Mo Jian had never managed to track him down. Ever since meeting the original Mo Jian's lingering ghost, he had begun to suspect that Chao Qinzi was using the fragment of the Ruyi Lotus Scepter in his possession to conceal himself. What else could explain his complete disappearance?

Whatever method he employed, however, it meant nothing to the Netherworld Scorpion. Its translucent wings hummed softly as it lifted into the air once more before smoothly turning to face south, the very direction from which Mo Jian had come. His heartbeat quickened as a fierce grin spread slowly across his face. "Found you."

Hunting down Chao Qinzi had always lingered in the back of his mind as an unresolved problem. Now, he possessed the means to do it. Judging by the direction in which the scorpion pointed, by the invisible line stretching through his perception, there was only one plausible destination. South lay the imperial capital, then countless cities, towns, and villages scattered across the continent. Beyond them, at the world's edge, lay the Thousand Shattered Islands. He could not tell how far away the target was, only the direction. But that was enough.

What else could he test?

He licked his lips before uttering, "Xiang Tingyuan." Speaking the Immortal Emperor's name aloud was a risk. That man could hear it from anywhere in the world. But so what? Mo Jian's plans involved standing before him one day and speaking the truth to his face. Compared to that, this was a risk he could bear. The Netherworld Scorpion, however, found nothing. It hovered in place, turning slow circles as its translucent wings painted ribbons of pale light through the air, but no direction emerged in Mo Jian's mind. There was no invisible thread for it to grasp.

He pursed his lips. So it did not work on immortals. That made a certain kind of sense. The scorpion itself would be useless against such beings. Even General Qing had sensed and dispersed it with ease, and she had only been skimming the surface of the ocean that was xian, not yet fully immersed within it. After a moment's thought, he tried a third name.

"Ye Chen."

Again, the scorpion failed to find a direction. It bobbed uncertainly in the air, its wings trembling as though eager to fly yet unable to decide where. This result, at least, was expected.

One last name for the road. "Mars."

For the briefest instant, a connection formed, thin and nebulous. The scorpion twitched toward it, wings beating once as it leapt into the air. Then the thread snapped. It was like a strip of ancient cloth stretched far beyond its limits, fraying apart the moment any tension was placed upon it. The scorpion tried again, repeatedly reaching for that elusive connection, but each attempt ended the same way. It flickered into existence like the flame of a guttering candle before the wind extinguished it.

Mo Jian furrowed his brow. Was the failure because the Twelve were too close to Immortality? Or because of the Stormwall? If it was the former, there was little he could do. If it was the latter...

"Chiggis Khan."

This time, the scorpion showed no hesitation. It snapped to attention, pivoting sharply until it faced north, its tail raised and poised to strike. The direction to its prey was as clear to it as the rising sun. Mo Jian gave a satisfied nod. So, the Steppes themselves did not interfere with the scorpion's ability, or at least not across the distance separating him from Chiggis Khan. That was good to know.

That left only one question.

How far could it reach? Distance had to matter. Every technique had its limits, no matter how miraculous. He considered the problem for a few moments before settling on another name. "Lu Anchen."

The scorpion's certainty vanished at once. It hovered uncertainly, turning in slow circles as though searching for a direction that simply did not exist. Mo Jian nodded, having expected as much. That name belonged to someone from another world. Lu Anchen had been the owner of the Peach Blossom Bow in the story, a cultivator who resided on one of the subsidiary worlds within the Three Thousand Worlds System. Here, on Tianxia, he simply did not exist.

Still... how did the Netherworld Scorpion know which person to pursue? Surely there were countless people across existence who shared the same name. Did the scorpion somehow interpret his intent, drawing upon his memories to identify the correct individual? Or was that the sort of question one simply stopped asking when dealing with a creation touched by a divine artifact? Who knew.

Mo Jian let out a slow breath. Limitations notwithstanding, this was a terrifying increase in strength. His fingers drummed idly against the edge of the bed. The applications were obvious. Bounties. Escaped enemies. Missing allies. Hidden inheritances tied to a person rather than a place. Even assassinations became infinitely simpler once the hardest part was removed: finding the target.

"...You really have changed," he murmured, extending a finger. The Netherworld Scorpion obediently landed upon it. Up close, its body was almost translucent, wisps of pale qi drifting beneath its shell like moonlight trapped within clear ice. Its newly formed wings folded neatly against its back, delicate enough to appear fragile, yet capable of bursts of speed that defied reason.

A faint smile tugged at his lips. The South Pointing Chariot's xian had left him with far more than he had bargained for. Part of him itched to continue experimenting, to push the scorpion's newfound abilities even further. The wiser part, however, knew that repeatedly invoking the names of immortal beings, divine artifacts, and legendary figures was an excellent way to tempt fate, especially after he had already spoken the Six Eared General's name aloud.

There was no need to rush another experiment tonight. The Netherworld Scorpion dissolved into a ribbon of pale mist before sinking back into his body. Mo Jian closed his eyes. Tomorrow, at dawn, they would begin planning their journey across the Steppes.

Until then, he might as well rest.

…………………………………………….

Rest was the last thing on Bai Ning's mind.

The room she had been assigned was too small to pace properly, yet that was exactly what she did, crossing from one wall to the other before turning sharply and retracing her steps. Again and again. Too many thoughts crowded her mind, refusing to settle. Qing Zhanyue's final gift. The accusations leveled against Master Mo Jian. The assassins she knew – hoped – were hunting them. Her failure to break through to the mid-stage of the Core Formation realm. The weight of each thought pressed against the next until remaining still became impossible.

"Bai Ning, oh Bai Ning," she muttered to herself. "The moment is at hand. Are you ready?" The room, unsurprisingly, offered no reply, but then, she had not expected one. The question was for herself alone.

With a thought, she summoned the Green Destiny Sword. It appeared first as a mote of emerald light before unfurling into a full-length blade in her grasp. The weapon was simple: a straight, double-edged sword of green steel, free of ornate engravings or needless embellishment. She lifted it before her eyes, watching the muted qi lights glide along its polished surface, then gently swept it downward.

The slash was slow. Where the blade passed, a faint ripple lingered in the air, a crescent of translucent green light that refused to fade, hanging motionless as though the world itself had forgotten to heal the wound. Its gentle radiance washed over Bai Ning's face, and a satisfied smile touched her lips at the sight. To an outsider, it would seem unimpressive. Merely another sword light, held in place through careful control. Any competent sword cultivator could unleash a sword light.

This was not that. General Qing had shown her the path. Cut the edge itself, and the world will acknowledge it. That lingering crescent was proof that she had begun to understand. It was only the first step, but it would lead her to the next one. And when the time came to cross blades with the twin assassins...

Her fingers tightened around the hilt. The smile vanished. Anger surged through her chest, hot and immediate, but she caught it before it could take root. Her jaw clenched. She drew a slow breath, then another, feeling the tension drain from her shoulders as she exhaled. Anger would not help her. She had to remain in control.

The crescent of green light lingered as Bai Ning watched it in silence. She reached out with a finger. The instant it brushed the suspended blade of light, the crescent dissolved into drifting motes of green qi, disappearing like morning dew beneath the sun. "So that's still the limit."

A sword light left alone would eventually disperse on its own. Hers merely did so more slowly. However, General Qing's had not. Bai Ning still remembered watching her trace that arc through the air, leaving behind a thin line no brighter than moonlight. That cut had remained exactly where it was made. When they had flown through clouds, the rain had parted before reaching it. Even the wind seemed reluctant to cross.

How could she possibly bridge such a gap?

Her gaze drifted to the Green Destiny Sword and her mind to the memory jade she had received. With a thought she took it out of her storage pouch, immersing herself into the memories and sword intent stored inside. Without even realizing it, she had lowered herself into the small meditation alcove, laying the Green Destiny Sword across her knees. The room grew quiet. Outside, somewhere high above, loud, resounding footsteps crossed the Wall as the Puppet Colossi continued their ceaseless vigil and the night watch changed shifts. Farther still, beyond stone thicker than city gates, the endless grasslands whispered beneath the moon, the wind combing through them in long, unbroken waves.

Somewhere beneath that same moon, two assassins were on a path towards her.

Bai Ning closed her eyes. "Come." The word escaped as little more than a breath. "I'll be ready."

…………………………………………

Muxue felt that she was not ready at all.

A princess must always be calm. A princess must always be composed. A princess must always remain in control.

Tonight, she had failed at all three. The confrontation with Lou Ma Gong had been a mistake, born of a temper she should have mastered and a momentary lapse in judgment. She had known, even before setting foot upon the Wall, that coming here would stir memories best left buried. She had anticipated it, had prepared herself for it...

...and still she had faltered. The Wall had once been a symbol of the empire's strength to her. Then came the day news of her father's death reached the capital. Everything after that had unraveled with frightening speed. One by one, those she had called friends had quietly withdrawn. Some out of fear. Others out of convenience. A few simply because a fallen princess was no longer worth knowing. She could not even bring herself to resent them anymore.

Her thoughts lingered instead on the single person who had remained; who had refused to leave. Muxue closed her eyes.

No. Not now.

She drew a slow breath, held it, then let it escape just as slowly.

What was done was done. Regret accomplished nothing. The Steppes would not care that she was a princess. They would not care that she had lost her father, her home, or nearly everyone she had trusted. They would not forgive anger. They would not overlook hesitation. The land beyond the Wall was indifferent, and indifference was often crueler than malice. The task before them was already difficult enough. She could not allow herself to make it harder for everyone else.

She reached into her soul and withdrew the Truth Tolling Bell. The pale silver bell, with its waist fashioned in the form of folded flower petals, rested comfortably in her palm, scarcely larger than a clenched fist. It looked the same as the first day she had grasped it, at the Recognition Ceremony where her father had taken her. She knew its history well: it had been fashioned out of metal extracted from a fallen star, purified by a powerful alchemist and then refined by one of the earliest emperors of the empire as a tool to tell truth from lies. That emperor's daughter had then taken it as a natal artifact, carrying it with her to her tenure as empress. Later on, the horn of a Xiezhi had been added to the bell, turning it from a powerful artifact to an irreplicable one. Her father had told her that she would be the second coming of the Great Empress Shun when she ascended to the throne with it.

Her thumb traced the polished silver handle. The bell did not ring. It never did unless she willed it.

"I almost used you." The words slipped out before she could stop them. During the confrontation with Lou Ma Gong, she had very nearly struck the bell. Had she done so, the General would have been forced to answer truthfully before everyone present, unless he used his superior cultivation to cancel her ability. But that would have settled the matter just as much as answering under the bell's power. It also would have humiliated him.

Muxue lowered her eyes. She had wanted exactly that in her anger, and it had only been due to others stopping her that the situation had not further devolved.

A princess was permitted to be stern. She was even permitted to be ruthless. She was not permitted to seek satisfaction, at least not in such a manner.

For a long while, she simply sat there with the bell cradled in both hands. Eventually, she laughed. It was a quiet thing, scarcely more than an exhale. "When did I become the one needing reminders?"

Her father had never lost his temper. At least, not where anyone could see. As a child, she had thought him incapable of anger. Only later had she realized the truth. He became angry as often as anyone else. He had simply learned to control it. A ruler's anger was contagious. If the sovereign lost control, everyone beneath them would follow.

She looked down at the bell again. "Father..." The word lingered in the empty room.

No answer came. Of course not; he had been gone for years. Yet, for just a moment, she imagined what he would have said after tonight's confrontation. Would you make the same choice tomorrow?

Muxue considered it carefully. After a long silence, she shook her head. "No." She would still defend Mo Jian, but she would do so without allowing anger to guide her words. That was the difference. She let the realization settle over her like cool rain, washing away the lingering heat in her chest.

She smiled, small but genuine. Perhaps tonight had not been a failure after all. She returned the Truth Tolling Bell to her sleeve and extinguished the qi lights with a flick of her fingers. Darkness filled the chamber. Tomorrow, they would leave the Wall behind.

Whatever awaited them in the Steppes, she would meet it not as a frightened daughter clinging to memories, but as the princess of her dynasty.

That, at least, remained within her power.

……………………………………….

Shi Pao, Minister of External Affairs of the Great Xiang Empire, bitterly flung the Rank Eight Wind Evasion talisman from his hand.

The strip of paper drifted barely a meter before losing what little momentum it possessed, descending in slow, lazy spirals. The faint breeze stirred by its passage teased its edges for a moment before it came to rest upon the stone floor, the crimson ink of its inscriptions glimmering mockingly beneath the qi lights.

He wanted to hurl a fireball after it for good measure. Instead, he merely glared. The thing had cost him an arm and a leg, and he could scarcely afford it in the first place. Juzing had assured him it would transform him into a gust of wind, allowing him to slip through walls as though they were no more substantial than morning mist.

The rat had lied.

The talisman had worked – up to a point. It had turned his body to wind just as promised, only for the Wall's formations to reject him utterly. The stone had remained as impassable as a mountain, forcing him back into flesh before he had even crossed half its thickness. He knew the Wall was the Empire's first line of defense against the barbaric Yuan. He knew the formations woven into it were among the finest on the continent.

But to stop even a Rank Eight talisman...

What sort of absurdity was that?

Curling his lip, Shi Pao shuffled away from the center of the room before collapsing onto the bed with an exaggerated groan. It was an old habit. He walked like a man on his last legs because people believed what they saw. Even cultivators, to whom age became little more than an inconvenience, instinctively viewed him as frail. His deeply lined face, stooped back, and uncertain gait all whispered the same lie: harmless. Harmless men were ignored, and ignored men survived.

It was a simple deception, yet one that had served him faithfully for decades. Ministers who prided themselves on unraveling conspiracies and reading hidden intentions still found themselves lowering their guard around a wheezing old man who seemed liable to die climbing a flight of stairs. Unfortunately... the disguise had proved singularly useless when it truly mattered.

He was still here, still trapped, still marching toward what was almost certainly his own death behind a madwoman and her equally deranged entourage. There was not a thing he could do about it. He rubbed at his aching teeth, grimacing as regret gnawed at him with greater persistence than any pain. Why? Why had he accepted that first meeting?

Greed. The answer came immediately, and he despised it. At the time it had seemed harmless enough. Better than another dreary evening buried beneath reports no one appreciated. Compared to the suffocating monotony of court, she had been... interesting. And the promises she had made... A new empire rising beyond the northern frontier. Trade routes no one else possessed. Influence flowing through the Ministry of External Affairs until it eclipsed every rival. A golden age for the Empire, and more importantly, for him.

Then there had been her. She had leaned close as she spoke, lowering her voice until he alone could hear it. Her fingers had brushed lightly against his sleeve, lingering for just a heartbeat longer than allowed. She had known exactly what she was doing. Watching those brilliant golden eyes, glimpsing the graceful figure concealed beneath immaculate white robes...

He had agreed to another meeting. Then another. Then another still. By the time he realized he had wandered into a tiger's den, the entrance had already disappeared behind him.

Now, he was ruined. That talisman had been one of his last hopes, his one remaining means of escaping the Wall before this mad expedition truly began. It was not as though he was imprisoned. The door to his room stood open, and if he chose to walk out, no one would stop him. But that would merely be a slower, more elaborate form of suicide. The Emperor – or rather, Crown Prince Chengxuan, acting in his stead – had ordered him to accompany the expedition to the Wall, and so he had come. If he disappeared now, there would be questions. Questions would become suspicion. Suspicion would become a warrant.

And then what? Where would he even go? Could he truly remain hidden from an empire that spanned the continent?

The Wind Evasion talisman had offered something different. It could have carried him far beyond the Wall in an instant, depositing him thousands of li away before anyone even realized he was gone. With enough distance, he might have changed his appearance, concealed his cultivation, and disappeared into some forgotten corner of the world before the court thought to pursue him. It had been a desperate plan, but desperate plans were all he had left.

He had not dared use the talisman during the journey north. The moment he learned who would be leading the convoy, he had become terrified of attracting Qing Zhanyue's attention. Around the Peacock General, even entertaining thoughts of escape had felt dangerous. Better to think of nothing at all than risk her anger doing what he should not.

Now he was beyond that opportunity. The Wall's formations had shattered his last hope as effortlessly as they had repelled the talisman's power. He was trapped, not by locked doors or chains, but by circumstance. Shi Pao let out a long, miserable sigh and covered his face with both hands. He had spent decades navigating the Imperial Court, surviving assassinations, political purges, ambitious rivals, and fickle emperors. He had always believed himself clever enough to slip through whatever snare fate laid before him.

Yet all those years of careful scheming had accomplished what? He was marching willingly into the barbarian Steppes behind a woman who smiled like a saint and plotted like a devil.

"...This old man truly has lived long enough to become a fool."

………………………………………….

"The last time," Liu Rushi gasped, lying upon the narrow bed, her back arched and her breathing ragged.

"The last time," Duan Cheng agreed, clinging to the last threads of his self-control.

The next moment, they snapped. Together, they rode the crest of pleasure until it finally broke, leaving only the sound of slowing heartbeats and unsteady breaths. Physical exertion meant little to cultivators, but proper dual cultivation could be more demanding than even body cultivation.

Duan Cheng collapsed face-first onto the bed beside her, allowing his breathing to settle. The warmth radiating from Liu Rushi's body seeped into his shoulder, pleasantly distracting after the intensity of the past few moments. This was the third "last time." It was becoming... dangerous. Not because there was any risk of discovery in this room, nor because anyone opposed them. The danger lay elsewhere. Circumstances, position, and simple propriety all dictated that they should never have become this close. Every stolen moment only made the inevitable parting more difficult.

Then Duan Cheng turned his head. Liu Rushi's cheeks were still flushed, her fiery hair spilling across the pillow in brilliant waves. Her eyes remained half-lidded, the corners of her lips curved in quiet satisfaction. He knew, with absolute certainty, that he would make this same mistake again.

She caught him staring. Of course she did. One elegant eyebrow rose, and she shifted lazily onto one side to face him, unconcerned by her complete lack of clothing. His gaze threatened to wander despite himself. Moments ago he had watched every movement of that body; her muscles tensing, her crimson hair rippling with each motion as-

"Thinking heavy thoughts?" Even her voice was sensual. By now, Duan Cheng was convinced it had nothing to do with qi or some subtle technique. Liu Rushi was simply... like this. Sensuality clung to her as naturally as warmth to fire, and she carried it without the slightest self-consciousness.

"Thinking of you," he answered honestly. He knew her well enough to recognize that anything else would have sounded evasive.

Just as he expected, her smile bloomed. "My, oh my," she teased, her eyes gleaming. "A woman could grow slovenly on such flattery, Cheng. Was there anything in particular that caught your eye?"

His own smile threatened to surface. His gaze certainly wanted to answer her question. On any other night, he would have. They would have traded teasing remarks until words gave way to laughter, laughter to silence, and silence to another embrace. But not tonight.

"It's getting dangerous," he said quietly.

The smile on Liu Rushi's face softened.

"If we keep this up, the others will notice. The only reason the seniors haven't is because they haven't bothered paying attention to us. We each have our own paths to walk, Rushi." He held her gaze, forcing himself not to look away. "Better to part now than later, when those paths have become impossible to untangle."

"I know." There was nothing coquettish in her reply. She met his eyes steadily, all traces of teasing gone. "And I don't disagree. This has gone much further than I ever intended." She sighed softly. "In fact, I'm fairly certain Muxue suspects, and Shuangyi definitely knows. She turned bright red when I rode behind her on the light-wrought horse. My dear disciple isn't nearly so twitchy unless she's trying very hard to hide something from me."

Her voice softened with unmistakable affection when she spoke of Yue Shuangyi. Duan Cheng felt an unexpected pang. His thoughts drifted, unbidden, to Cai. What was the boy doing now? Did he even care where his father had gone? ...No. A harsher question rose to the surface. Did Cai even acknowledge him as a father anymore? He had believed those thoughts buried long ago, ever since Cai had disappointed him so completely all those decades ago. Yet here they were again, clawing their way back to the surface with infuriating ease.

"All the more reason to stop now, then," he said quietly, watching a lock of crimson hair spill over the curve of Liu Rushi's shoulder. "If your student knows, then her friends probably do as well." A thought occurred to him. "Does Bai Ning know?"

Liu Rushi's expression immediately turned amused. "Speaking another woman's name while lying in my bed..." She clicked her tongue in mock reproach. "Ordinarily, I'd be quite upset. Fortunately, I know you have no such intentions." Her smile widened into a knowing grin. "And even if you did, anyone with functioning eyes could tell they would never be reciprocated."

Duan Cheng could only cough awkwardly.

"As for your question..." she continued, "yes. Li Kang and Chen Zhuhe almost certainly know as well. Kang, in particular, has become painfully obvious."

"Oh?"

"He has always turned as red as a lantern around me, but he'd finally gotten it under control a few months ago. Then, over the last several days..." She spread her hands helplessly. "Every time he looks at me, I can practically see him turning red."

Despite himself, Duan Cheng let out a short laugh. Poor boy. Then again, perhaps not. He grunted instead, unable to decide whether he was amused or disapproving. Of the two young men, he found Chen Zhuhe the more pleasant companion: articulate and possessed of an uncommon steadiness. Li Kang, by contrast, had made a rather poor first impression. Naturally, he kept such opinions to himself. The young man was Yue Shuangyi's sweetheart, as well as Bai Ning's friend. Speaking ill of him would accomplish nothing.

Besides... Neither Yue Shuangyi nor Li Kang would have described their hesitant, blushing courtship as love. Not yet. They were still at the stage where holding each other's gaze for more than a heartbeat was enough to leave both of them crimson-faced. Perhaps that was why Li Kang irritated him. Watching the two of them stumble awkwardly around one another reminded him too much of his own youth: of stolen glances, uncertain smiles, and the woman who had long since passed beyond his reach. It was easier to find fault with the boy than to admit he envied him the chance to begin a story Duan Cheng could never relive.

Before he could dwell on that uncomfortable realization, Liu Rushi spoke again, drawing his attention back to the present.

"...Though, of course, Bai Ning will probably know soon enough."

He looked at her questioningly.

"That's how I was able to come here, Cheng." A mischievous smile returned to her lips. "Shuangyi and her little flock have gone to visit Bai Ning. The poor girls haven't really had a chance to speak since they reunited, so they're making the most of the opportunity while they have it."

Duan Cheng nodded slowly. That made sense. The journey north had offered precious little privacy. Between the military escort, Qing Zhanyue's overwhelming presence, and the simple fact that a princess had been only a few paces away at nearly every moment, there had scarcely been an opportunity for friends to simply... be friends.

He only hoped word never reached Senior Mo Jian. Not because the man would forbid it, but because Duan Cheng did not wish to disappoint him.

"I'm glad," he admitted at last.

"So am I."

For a while, neither of them spoke.

The silence that settled over the room was no longer awkward, nor laden with unspoken desire. It was the easy silence of two people who had grown comfortable in one another's presence, content simply to share the same space while the world outside continued on without them.

……………………………….

"Can't you be more careful?" Yue Shuangyi asked despairingly as Li Kang backed into the vase resting upon the nearby plinth, sending it tumbling toward the floor. Thankfully, Chen Zhuhe was already prepared. With a flicker of qi, he caught the falling vase before it could shatter and calmly guided it back to its original position.

The two of them turned toward Li Kang and delivered the exact same look. It was the sort of glare that needed no words. Get it together.

"It's not my fault, and you know it," Li Kang said righteously. Even he had to admit, however, that it sounded more like a complaint than a defense.

Yue Shuangyi, goddess in mortal form that she was, softened immediately. Chen Zhuhe, pig-headed fool that he was, unfortunately, did not. Instead, he shook his head solemnly, wearing the expression of a teacher disappointed by a particularly slow student. "Such excuses, brother. Perhaps it is simply a matter of lacking talent."

Li Kang glared at him though the expression had no effect whatsoever. And really, it wasn't his fault. The rapid advancement he, Yue Shuangyi, and Chen Zhuhe had undergone in the Thousand Shattered Islands had come with a number of unforeseen consequences. The countless pills and elixirs, combined with guidance from powerful Core Formation cultivators, had propelled their cultivation forward at a pace most cultivators could only dream of.

Unfortunately, the human body was not always prepared to keep up. For Li Kang, the problem had manifested in his control over his inner qi. His cultivation had risen too quickly, leaving his qi circulation unstable. The slightest lapse in concentration could send his spiritual energy spilling out at the wrong moment, causing him to stumble, lose balance, or knock over whatever unfortunate object happened to be nearby. The frustrating part was that control itself was not difficult. Maintaining that control indefinitely was. Feeling his own qi slip beyond his grasp was an unpleasant experience, one he was still working tirelessly to correct.

Chen Zhuhe's problem had been entirely different. His body had simply demanded more. Much more. He had experienced a hunger so overwhelming that it bordered on starvation, the sort of appetite only someone who had gone without food for days could understand. It had taken months of constant eating before Monk Chanakya's Mind-Body Separation Technique helped him regain control. Even now, there were moments when Zhuhe would quietly pull out a bun or take a dumpling from his storage pouch and begin eating without a word. Li Kang knew better than to comment; the man was still fighting his own battle.

Only Yue Shuangyi had truly overcome her difficulties. Her problem had been with her ice-aspected qi freezing within her meridians, threatening to turn her own cultivation against her. Fortunately, Liu Rushi had solved the issue with a single inner circulation technique. Where exactly Liu Rushi had found such a method, no one knew. Even Sect Leader Fan Mei had admitted that the technique was both miraculous and profound, something she had never encountered before.

Though...

Considering what Li Kang had overheard during their journey toward the capital – that brief encounter with the Lord of the Lonely Roads – he suspected he finally understood the source.

The three of them continued down the corridor with greater care than before. Li Kang consciously kept his qi under tighter rein, and, to his relief, nothing else toppled over. A few moments later, they arrived outside Bai Ning's room. Yue Shuangyi produced a voice transmission talisman and flicked it toward the door. The slip of paper struck an invisible barrier, bounced back as though it had hit solid stone, and fluttered harmlessly to the floor.

She blinked. "...Right."

Chen Zhuhe stepped forward with a faint smile. "Of course they would have laid down a formation to block talismans. Allow me." As he spoke, a mote of crimson light drifted from the crown of his head before expanding into a rudraksha bead the size of a fist. Its deeply grooved surface gleamed as though freshly oiled, each ridge faintly stained the color of dried blood. The Bodhi Blood Bead, Chen Zhuhe's natal artifact hovered before him for a heartbeat before smoothly flattening into a circular formation plate. Delicate lines of crimson spread across its surface like veins, illuminating one after another as he poured his concentration into deciphering the formation sealing Bai Ning's room.

A hand reached past his shoulder, settling upon the doorknob. The door swung inward without a sound. Yue Shuangyi stepped inside as though nothing unusual had happened. "Come along."

Li Kang followed after her, unable to resist shooting his brother a thoroughly amused smile before disappearing through the doorway himself. By the time a blank faced Chen Zhuhe entered, the Bodhi Blood Bead had already returned to its usual shape.

The room proved no different from their own. Bai Ning sat cross-legged within the marked meditation alcove, the Green Destiny Sword resting across her lap. Her breathing was slow and even, but the moment she sensed their presence, her eyes fluttered open. A broad smile bloomed across her face. "Sister Shuangyi, Li Kang, Chen Zhuhe. What are you all doing here?"

Li Kang grinned back just as broadly, making himself comfortable on the bed along the wall without waiting for an invitation. "We came to talk, of course. We've barely had a chance since we found you again. First there was the mine, then the journey here, and tomorrow we'll be heading into the Steppes. If not tonight, then when?"

Yue Shuangyi inclined her head in solemn agreement. "A reunion between friends should be conducted properly." She somehow managed to sound like a princess announcing a state banquet despite the gourd of wine that floated casually from her storage pouch.

Bai Ning's eyes immediately lit up. "Spirit wine? Now you're speaking my language. How did you sneak that in here?"

Yue Shuangyi snorted. "Sister, we're no longer children. Why would I need to sneak anything?" Her lips curved into a sly smile. "I merely had to keep it out of Zhuhe's sight."

Chen Zhuhe frowned. "Hey-"

Four porcelain cups were already drifting out of Li Kang's storage pouch. Judging the battle lost before it had even begun, Chen Zhuhe accepted one with as much dignity as he could muster. Crystal-clear spirit wine splashed into each cup, catching the warm glow of the qi lamps until it glittered like liquid crystal. Four cups met in the middle.

Laughter soon followed.

……………………………………….

Wei Shentong was gazing at the moon.

He had finally given up refining the Unbroken Jade Coronet for the night. He could feel it improving, but the progress was maddeningly slow, each success so minute that it scarcely registered. Under normal circumstances, he would have persisted. Tonight, however, he lacked the patience. Instead, he indulged in one of his few pastimes: watching the world. Back in the capital, he would sit beside the Heilongtan Pool outside his pavilion, using the distant Kanchi Mine as a point of reference while letting both his eyes and his spiritual sense wander wherever curiosity carried them.

Here, he had to settle for the former. His spiritual sense was not suppressed upon the Wall, but every sufficiently powerful presence was watched. Earlier, he had swept his perception fifty li in either direction, idly observing the fortress and those stationed upon it. Within moments, another spiritual sense of equal strength had settled upon his own, neither hostile nor curious, merely... attentive. Supervising. Wei Shentong had withdrawn immediately. Wall or no Wall, he had no interest in letting another cultivator peer over his shoulder while he admired the scenery.

His gaze returned to the heavens. The moon hung full and luminous above the endless plains, its silver light washing over the Wall until the ancient stone seemed carved from polished bone. Across the moon's face stretched the Twelve Harmonies, vast swathes of darkness as black as the deepest ink, stark against the surrounding brilliance. Legend claimed they were not shadows at all. They were scars. Long before the Shattering, when Flying Immortals still walked the world, they had flown freely between heaven and earth. Some had even made their homes upon the moon itself, carving immense domains into its surface. Each of the Twelve Harmonies marked the territory of one such immortal, a realm so vast that, viewed from the world below, it remained visible even after untold ages.

They had cultivated there in the hopes of breaking the shackles that bound them to this world, or so the stories claimed. Wei Shentong had never cared whether the legends were true.

He simply found them beautiful.

Their quiet majesty did much to settle his thoughts. It still felt utterly absurd. In the span of a few short months, he had gone from district magistrate to a vagrant upon the Wall, preparing to follow a princess into the Steppes in pursuit of vague promises and a piece of heavenly jade that had become as irritating as a pebble trapped inside his boot.

A year ago, he would have laughed at anyone who suggested such a future. Even now, when he retraced every step that had led him here, he found himself baffled. None of his decisions had seemed unreasonable at the time. Given the same circumstances, he doubted he would choose differently. Yet taken together...

Had he somehow been made a fool of?

"Hmph." He snorted to himself. What nonsense. If someone had truly manipulated him, then they deserved admiration more than resentment.

The thought finally coaxed the last of his irritation away. Since the Twelve Harmonies no longer held his attention, he turned his gaze northward. The Steppes unfolded before him in silent grandeur. No villages broke the landscape. No roads wound through the grass. There were no landmarks beyond those fashioned by nature herself. Only an endless sea of silvered grass stretched toward the horizon, its countless stalks bending and rising beneath the night's steady breeze like the surface of a moonlit ocean.

The air hummed with life. Cicadas drifted lazily from blade to blade, their songs weaving together into a ceaseless chorus. Here and there, some small nocturnal predator slipped soundlessly through the grass, hunting for the sleeping creatures hidden beneath the earth.

Far in the distance, along the western horizon, a forest rose abruptly from the plains. Even from atop the Wall, it dominated the landscape. Wei Shentong narrowed his eyes. The trees were simply... enormous. He could distinguish individual trunks without relying on qi. That alone spoke to their impossible scale. Up close, he suspected each would rival a mountain in height. Their canopies spread outward in immense green crowns, broad enough to swallow entire city districts beneath their shade, while roots thicker than most major roads coiled across the earth like the backs of sleeping dragons.

Tiny flecks of white shimmered amongst the branches: flowers. From this distance they looked like scattered stars caught in the leaves. Given how clearly he could see them, however, each blossom was likely larger than a house. Even the grass growing between those colossal roots reached high enough to be visible from here. Each blade, then, must have stood taller than a man. It was a remarkable sight, and so he watched. The wind carried the scent of open plains across the Wall, cool against his face, while the distant forest stood unmoving beneath the moon as though it had watched over the Steppes since time itself began.

Gradually, his thoughts quieted. The tension left his qi.

On a whim, he reached into his dantian and summoned his natal artifact, shaping a viewing eye from translucent jade. If he could not rely upon his spiritual sense, then he still possessed other means of seeing what lay beyond ordinary sight. The jade eye floated before him. Wei Shentong aligned his gaze with it, and the world immediately sharpened into green. It was as though he had been carried across the distance in an instant. Every splinter of bark, every groove in the wood, every trembling leaf appeared with perfect clarity, close enough that he felt he could reach out and touch them.

With a thought, he adjusted the artifact. The field of vision narrowed and the distant forest surged closer. One of its branches shifted. No... not the branch. A snake slithered lazily through the canopy, except that calling it a snake felt rather like calling a dragon a lizard. Its body stretched for well over ten li, thick enough to swallow both Wei Shentong and his pavilion without difficulty. Scattered golden scales shimmered amongst the emerald ones covering its hide, and from the center of its forehead protruded a single bony nub, as though a horn stood on the verge of emerging.

Wei Shentong quietly redirected the jade eye. His vision slipped deeper into the forest, between towering trunks, across roots broader than roads, and through thickets where ordinary trees would have vanished beneath the undergrowth. He continued onward, searching for the forest's end. He never found it. The trees simply continued, one giving way to another, and then another still. The deeper his vision travelled, the darker the forest became. The immense canopy gradually swallowed the moonlight until none remained, leaving only a vast expanse of impenetrable blackness beneath the branches.

Retracting his gaze, he instead swept the jade eye back across the broader Steppes.

The plains, by contrast, felt almost peaceful. For a minute or so, he idly watched a Yin Wolf stalk an Iron-Horned Rabbit through the sea of grass. The rabbit darted between clumps of reeds with desperate speed, only for the wolf to cut it off with patient precision. A brief struggle followed before the predator vanished into the grass with its prize. He moved on.

This time, he lifted the jade eye toward the moon. Even at the limit of his ability, the heavenly body refused to draw truly near. It expanded, brightened, and revealed greater detail, the pale markings upon its face resolving into immense craters and yawning chasms, yet it remained distant all the same.

The Twelve Harmonies were as inscrutable as ever. No matter how he adjusted the artifact, the black scars refused to yield any detail, as though they drank in his perception before it could reach them. Wei Shentong was content simply to admire the moonlight.

Then something moved at the corner of his eye, a flicker of gold. His brows drew together. There was... something upon the moon?

No. His eyes narrowed. Not upon it, but before it. The golden speck rapidly grew larger, resolving into fire – golden fire. It blazed against the moon's silver disc, not upon the lunar surface but in the sky between heaven and earth, flying toward the Wall with astonishing speed.

Wei Shentong instinctively sharpened the jade eye and the image rushed into focus. It was an enormous roc formed entirely from surging golden flames. Its passage set the heavens ablaze. Clouds dissolved into steam before they could touch it, while the air itself shimmered and distorted in its wake. Its beak gleamed like polished gold, and every feather was outlined in living fire that streamed behind it like a burning banner.

Then he saw what the flames concealed – riders. Green-scaled figures nestled within the body of the colossal bird, as though the fire itself had become a ship. Chimeric centaurs, each armored for war.

Ten...

Twenty...

Fifty...

Wei Shentong abandoned counting. There were too many, scores, or perhaps hundreds, all flying directly toward the Wall. His expression hardened as the moment of quiet contemplation vanished as though it had never existed. A jade slip materialized in his hand. Without hesitation, he impressed his memories into it, recording everything the jade eye had witnessed. The slip would crumble after a single use, but that was all it needed.

Then he moved, qi surging through his meridians. Outside his chamber, jade erupted into existence. A dragon formed, its serpentine body unfurling from the summit of the Wall all the way to its base, a colossal construct of translucent green stone rivaling the Wall itself in length. Its scales glittered beneath the moonlight, and its antlered head rose high above the battlements, its four legs crashing into the wall to hold it in place. The instant it appeared, spiritual senses converged upon him in alarm and suspicion.

Wei Shentong ignored them all. The jade dragon drew in a breath and roared. The sound rolled across the Wall like thunder, shaking stone and sending banners snapping violently in the wind. The silence shattered. Qi flared throughout the fortress as cultivators sprang into motion. Puppet Colossi lining the battlements pivoted as one, enormous spears lowering toward the jade dragon before recognizing it as no threat. Blue flames erupted from one of the nearby chambers. Wei Shentong did not need to look to know that insufferable fellow had awakened.

Good, he would be useful.

The jade slip in Wei Shentong's hand split into two, then four, then eight, and then even more. Dozens of copies blossomed into existence before spilling from the dragon's open jaws like a rain of green leaves. Soldiers and cultivators seized them as they fell, reading the contents almost instantly. Across the Wall, expressions changed from confusion to grim understanding. Among the converging spiritual senses, Wei Shentong recognized one in particular: The Horse General.

Good, the message had reached someone who mattered.

The alarm had been raised. The Yuan were coming.

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AN:15 extra chapters are up on Patreon for anyone who wants to check them out. Thanks for reading!